A Ghost of a Good Mood
by ItTicklesLikeCrazy
Summary: A collection of stories that is exclusive to Danny and any ghost I come up with bonding. Ember, Skulker, Technus, Clockwork, Wulf, Youngblood, Dani, Lunch Lady, Box Ghost, Kitty, Johnny, Fright Knight, Vlad, Frostbite, Dora, Poindexter, and maybe even Walker (if you're lucky).
1. Ember

**Don't get on my case for a new story, okay. This is just some mish-mash of random stories which should be good. Danny and whatever other ghost bonding. Maybe some other humans, too. You should know that I got the title from an Owl City song: Rainbow Veins. Possibly the most obscure part of the song, but the lyrics were stuck in my head, and I was like, okay.**

**Also, I ship DXE. Just a note.**

**So I guess the disclaimer comes next, but I don't really think more than one is necessary per story, so just ignore this if you hate disclaimers like I do.**

**HEY YOU PEOPLE THAT READ THE WEIRDO DISCLAIMERS. AS IF I OWN ANY PERSON, PLACE, THING, OR IDEA THAT COMES FROM DANNY PHANTOM. GET THIS STRAIGHT. I ONLY DO ONE DISCLAIMER PER STORY, SO THIS IS ALL YOU GET, IF, FOR SOME REASON I REALLY _CANNOT_ COMPREHEND, YOU JUST READ THE STORIES FOR THE DISCLAIMERS. I OWN NOTHING OF DANNY PHANTOM, NOTHING AT ALL. NONE OF THE GHOSTS OR MUSIC OR IDEAS. ALRIGHT? GOOD.**

**So...that's that. ENJOY!**

Ember didn't know who the new guy was, but she was going to find out, and quickly. As soon as he walked into her club, he had all the ghost girls swooning, and every guy was looking at him with jealous eyes. It was only accentuated by the fact that he didn't have a ghost girl hanging off his arm, which, in a place like this, was like a billboard for pronouncing that he was single.

The speakers pulsed a beat fantastically loud, and on the neon dance floor, ghosts swung their hips and flipped their hair. Hands were clapping, mouths were screaming, and couples were kissing. A normal Friday night in Ember's club, except that she could see several people at a time sending curious and intrigued glances towards the booth where the new guy sat alone, head down, as if waiting for a girl to slide into the seat across from him and start flirting.

Ember wasn't afraid to stare, not sending those tiny little pathetic glances some of the other girls were, attempting to be unnoticeable. Instead, she just looked. Her eyes drifted over attractively tousled white hair and strong biceps, packed with lean muscle and showing mysteriously human-looking tan skin. His back was a bit hunched, with his head down, but she could get the gist of his outfit. From what she could tell, he was wearing a white vest with a black short-sleeved tee-shirt underneath, still showing off impressive arms, which were not grotesquely over-bulky, which some boys seemed to think girls liked.

Ember's eyes drifted down to his leg, of which she could only see a bit. He was wearing a white combat boot, and probably black skinny jeans, from what she could tell. She knew with just a glance that this boy was a good pick, she didn't even need to look around at the other girls staring upon him with hungry eyes and devious smiles. She also knew that anybody that handsome was going to be hard to wrap around her finger, but Ember was okay with that. After such a long time with that total deadbeat Skulker, she was ready for a challenge to get her skills back to work.

She saw a few girls start to break away from the crowd, slowly beginning to meander towards the place where the boy sat. Ember knew that she should move now, and took meaningful steps towards the boys table. As soon as the girls spotted her, they stopped in their tracks. They may have been cute, energized, beautiful, and powerful, but they still knew better than to face off with Ember McLain, _especially_ when she was in her own club. Just the idea of being banned from Ember's club was enough to make most ghosts back off, not even adding the effects of an actual fight with her. They would wait to see if she got rejected, and if she did, make a move. But right now, he was all hers.

Ember stalked up to the booth purposefully, blue ponytail crackling behind her. With each step, the boy seemed to grow just a bit more handsome. She could see the well-defined muscle tone, the flare of a powerful ghostly glow emanating off his tan skin, and the slight perk of his messy hair that showed gravity was just a suggestion to him. She grinned, nearly licking her purple-lipsticked lips in anticipation, and strolled the last few feet with confidence.

She slid into the seat across from him, displaying audacity. He looked around her age, which just made everything so much easier. She vouched for cheesy. So much better if she had to work a little harder. "I'd ask if you come here often, but I think I would have noticed half the girls in my club unhinging their jaws before."

The boy chuckled slightly. "Flirting with me, Ember?" He lifted his head, and Ember saw a flash of neon green eyes, and that very familiar smirk she saw every time she decided to try for a human world adventure. She spluttered in surprise, and several girls looked over, curiosity showing in their eyes. Most boys had jealousy shining in theirs.

"Ph-Phantom!" Ember exclaimed, trying to not shout it to the high heavens, even through her surprise. It was pure luck that the speakers switched to a song with booming guitar and drums in the beginning, so nobody heard. A grin stretched across his face.

"Don't look so surprised," he teased. "You did just come over here to flirt, didn't you? Or did you not know what you were getting into?" He raised a casual eyebrow. When Ember didn't reply, Danny sighed and ran a hand through his already tousled white hair. "Look. I'll leave if you want. I know I already kind of caused a disturbance." He waved a hand around, signifying all the people staring at them with adoration, jealousy, and curiosity. "I seriously didn't know the outfit would make such a splash, but I thought it would be a little better than HASMAT." He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Look, I'll just go now." He began to get up.

"Don't!" Ember startled herself, speaking before she even knew what she was doing. She pointed to the seat across from her. "Sit." she commanded. He obeyed. "Why?" she asked once he had settled back down, staring at him seriously. She left no room for argument or jokes.

"I suppose you mean, why did I come to your lair-which is pretty cool, by the way-on a Friday night while I'm on summer break?" he clarified, but Ember suspected he didn't even need her nod to know that that was exactly what she'd meant. Danny sighed again. "I don't know. Sam and Tucker made this cake with the emblem on it, and Jazz put up streamers in my room, and they all wore black-not just Sam-as a joke, but I guess I just didn't want to be around them tonight. I mean, they're really cool and everything, but they just don't get it. I thought that tonight, of all nights, I would just hang around ghosts. I saw your club, and I thought, well hey, that looks like a place for a lot of people. Maybe Ember won't notice and won't try to beat me up, but I guess the you-not-noticing thing was stupid."

Ember raised an eyebrow at him. She'd actually gotten most of that, but some parts were a little confusing. Cake? Black? Streamers? "What's the occasion?" she wondered aloud.

Danny looked up at her, a grin that was screaming _IRONY_ at her in very loud voices. He shrugged. "I guess I thought that you'd somehow magically know. It's three years."

_Three years?_ Ember wondered. What was that supposed to mean? But just as she opened her mouth to ask, it struck her. Coming to the Ghost Zone. Wearing black as a joke. The celebration, though sounding grim. "Seriously?" she wondered. "Today? And they threw you a party? How insensitive can they get?"

Danny waved a dismissive hand. "I don't blame them." Ember gave him an incredulous look, and he returned it with a shrug. "I just don't think they get it. Sure, they think today's a day to celebrate and be happy, because it was a massive turning point in our lives three years ago, and very, very important to me. They think of it like a birthday. They don't think of it on our terms. They don't think, 'three years ago precisely on this day Danny walked inside the ghost portal and electrocuted himself, suffering horrible pain and dying halfway, leading to future suffering and hardship for the sake of others'. It's more like 'oh, this is the anniversary of when Danny got his wicked cool powers and became half-ghost. Let's dress up like we're headed to a funeral as a joke and celebrate it'!

"It's your _Death Day_," Ember put special emphasis on the word. "The anniversary of you _dying_! They should at least not bake a cake about it."

Danny just shrugged again. "Well, I just needed to be around real ghosts today. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz mean well, they really do, but sometimes they can be…" he trailed off.

"Insensitive jerks," Ember finished blandly. She meant it, too. She couldn't imagine trying to celebrate the day she died.

Danny chuckled slightly. "Yeah, okay, maybe a little. And, I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate their efforts-"

"I wouldn't," Ember interrupted, feeling strangely at ease with the boy across the table from her. She tried to mentally scold herself for it, but found that she couldn't. Was he always this friendly and she didn't realize, or was he more hurt by what his friends and sister had done than he claimed?

Danny sent her a mildly amused look. "-but I just wish that they considered the effect on me. So, I guess I just wanted to hang out with other dead people and not try and fight them."

"Okay," Ember agreed. "My club is no brawling in the front rooms, and rent one of the back ones to beat the snot out of people. If you want to punch somebody for frustration, I'd be willing to give you a discount because of your situation," Danny looked at her, surprised. "But if you just want to hang, stay up front. Skulker, Technus, or whoever else could walk in here with all their weapons loaded, ready to take your head off, but as soon as they start a fight, they're out. This is my lair, my way. Anybody who doesn't like it can-"

Danny held up a hand, halting her. "Please don't finish that sentence, Ember. I don't know what you're going to say, but I know that it will poison my innocent, seventeen-year-old, virgin brain."

Ember clucked her tongue, grinning despite herself. "Seventeen years old and not even laid yet," she teased. "Pitiful."

"At least _I'm_ not eternally eighteen," he mocked playfully back, and yet, somehow, Ember wasn't offended like she would have been if it had been Skulker or anyone else.

"Keep this up and you'll be stuck at seventeen all your afterlife," she threatened, holding up her gloved fist, slightly glowing with purple energy. She didn't really mean it, though.

"I thought there was no brawling," Danny said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. Ember felt a matching one adorning her features.

"I don't need to pay for a back room to fight in, I can just haul you there and beat the shit out of you."

Danny's emerald eyes danced with mischief. "Thats not all you can do in the back rooms," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Ember laughed. "Trust me, goody-two-shoes," she taunted. "You don't even want to try with a bad girl like me."

Danny returned the laugh whole-heartedly. "Oh really?" He smiled sinisterly, and his eyes flashed red for a brief second. Ember was taken aback, shocked. "You'd be surprised how," he paused, his lips parting slightly. "Non _goody-two-shoes_ I can be."

"You want to quit with the playful banter and get right to the battle?" she shot back. Both of them had huge and mischievous grins on their faces right then. "Or are you scared? A little boy like you can't handle a _rockstar_."

Danny smirked. "Maybe not yet, _rockstar_, but give me a few more hours with you, and you'll be begging me. Or did you forget already your reason for coming over to this booth already?"

Ooh. He had her their. She hadn't seen who he was, but that outfit, the hair, and the muscles had attracted her. She could only guess the kind of abs you got from ghost fighting all day, but she had the feeling that she'd be pleased if she did find out. Without a second thought to it, Ember shifted her weight, put one hand to the table, one knee to the seat, and leaned until her lips crashed into Danny's. Every whisper and gasp and talk and chatter ended at that very moment, leaving only the pulsing beat of the music as background noise, but Ember didn't care, and from the way Danny responded, neither did Danny.

Danny paused for a moment when her lips met his, surprised, but then relaxed into it. His lips were warmer than Ember's, which wasn't much of a surprise, but Ember wasn't too pleased at exactly how warm they were, compared to hers. It made her feel dead. But, to her utter astonishment, they cooled down in a matter of seconds, just a hint warmer than her own, and began kissing her back, moving in a way that was nearly massaging to Ember's lips.

His hand reached up and held her head to his, her fiery hair licking around his fingers but not burning him. His skin was only a bit warmer than her own, which was puzzling, but Ember didn't complain as his other hand came up and pressed into her hand on the table. She eased up, no longer obeying the laws of gravity, and Danny turned her intangible, pulling her straight through the table and next to him. His hand remained in hers, though, and Ember wasn't complaining.

They broke apart soon enough, and Danny grinned at her, almost dopily. "Well," he began, giving her a sideways look as he swiveled to sit in the booth directly again. "That was an unexpected turn to the evening."

"Admit it already, baby-pop. That was the best kiss of your life. You know you want more."

Danny shrugged at her. "I wasn't denying that I liked it, but if your looking for a new boy-toy, I'll politely decline."

Ember raised an eyebrow at him. "Eh?"

"You're a loose cannon, and I like a more stable relationship," Danny said. "I can't say I didn't like kissing you, but your style of get 'em, kiss 'em, screw 'em, dump 'em isn't really in my corner."

"Maybe you need to just try being a little more adventurous," Ember suggested, and got up from the table. "Tons of ghost girls are going to come over and flirt with you as soon as I leave, and most of them will love it even more that you're the good-boy Danny Phantom. A lot of girls want to get their hands on you and try to convert you to their side, so I wouldn't be surprised if, as soon as I walked away, a dozen girls materialized next to you, with even more across the table." She winked. "Have fun, and if you ever need to talk again, don't be afraid to drop by."

Ember grinned at him and walked off, swaying her hips for emphasis, and tossing her hair just a bit. Every girl waited for about two minutes, waiting to see what Ember would do and whether that kiss meant that he was hers now, but when she didn't move after the respected two minutes, more than two dozen girls all tried to make their move at once. Ember secretly snuck closer, invisibly, to listen to his conversation with the first ghost girl.

"Hi," she said in a seductive voice. "I'm Violettai. You want me to show you a good time?"

Danny chuckled. "Unless you're talking about running records, I think it's going to be a little harder for you than that."

Ember knew that was going to drive her crazy, and when the resulting "Ooh la-la," came from Violettai, she nearly grinned. That was very smooth of Phantom.

"So what's your name?" Violettai finally wondered, her tone back to thick and seductive. It didn't seem to affect Danny, because all he did was chuckle again.

"If you really must know, my name…is Danny Phantom."

Ember could practically hear Violettai's heart drop. She _could _hear the small squeak that came from the ghost girl. She grinned. Apparently, Phantom wasn't as goody-two-shoes as she'd thought at first. He was a real heart-breaker. She couldn't wait to see who was hanging off his arm when he rented a back room. Maybe even blast them to pieces later, because if she knew something, it was that she'd secretly enjoyed that kiss too, perhaps even more than he had himself. He was the ultimate challenge, and yet, the first trap had been set, and all she needed to do was spring it at the right time.

**Also, for people about to scold me because I didn't put this on my oneshot album, whatever. Alright, this is exclusive. This is Ghost(s) and Danny bonding, because I LOVE Ghost(s) and Danny bonding. COmpletely different category, okay?**

**Also, I wrote this because Veritonee was being mean and wouldn't provide me with inspriation. Because my stories are actual things, apparently. I'll try to update it on Saturday, but OH MY GOODNESS, i just...ugh.**

**UNTIL NEXT TIME!**


	2. Skulker

**Hey guys! Wassup! So I haven't updated this in a while...HOPE YOU STILL LOVE ME! I wrote a LOT of DannyXEmber, so be prepared for that, but I'll try to have different varieties and stuff. This one (hopefully you get this) is SKULKER! YAY! Next on will probably be Ember...sorry for those people who don't like that! I'm thinking of titling the chapters so that those who don't like stuff like that can just skip it.**

**...ENJOY!**

Skulker zoomed through the air at a speed not too slow, but not too quickly either. Sure, his bulky armor made him less streamline and took away some of his speed, but just one look at the arsenal he was packing was more than enough convincing for Skulker that it was worth it. Besides, that's what would finally make up for all his past failures and gain him the pelt of that annoying twit of a halfa child. And he _would_ succeed this time.

Skulker didn't bother even checking the other places the ghost child frequented and made straight for the school building. The ghost child's schedule was unpredictable only on days that started with the letter S. Weekends were hard, since he could be anywhere, doing anything. From right next to the ghost portal training his extensive range of ever-growing ghost powers, to hanging out with the goth girl and technology-inclined boy, or even sleeping off a particularly hard ghost fight.

But on five out of seven days, his schedule was easy. Sleep until seven, school at eight, Nasty Burger at three, home at four. There were always the ghost fights the boy engaged in, but that could hardly be counted as a regular schedule, because even though the ghost attacks were now constant for the child, to keep him distracted and frazzled so he wouldn't attempt to make more allies than necessary in the Ghost Zone, the ghosts attacked on their own time, never in pattern.

Skulker reached the school building, proud lettering-if slightly singed- spelled out _Casper High School. _This was a seemingly happy mistake, but hilarious to any ghost who cared to notice the detail. Skulker was far to focused to laugh now, though. HIs prey was in reach, just getting ready to head off to lunch with his two close friends who knew his secret.

Skulker phased through the wall, and-invisibly and intangibly-sped through the school halls, zipping through students, looking for the ghost child. He finally came across the halfa in an unlikely location. Over twenty meters from his locker, headed in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. This was not so much puzzling to Skulker as the apparent _reason_ for the halfa's unusual placement.

A meaty hand was clapped on the top on the halfa's head, squishing black hair that refused to completely comply to the rules of gravity down flat except for small tufts of hair sticking out between the fingers. The halfa was stumbling along, being pulled by his head after a tall blonde boy in a letterman jacket. Skulker recognized the jacket as one worn by many who screamed and ran in terror when he had showed up to fight the ghost child in previous situations.

Three other boys wearing the same jacket followed the first boy, prodding and jeering and shoving the boy, taunting him with obvious stupidity. Didn't they realize that, despite their bulk, the halfa could take all of them on now without even using powers? They were clearly morons of inexpressible capacity, which brought Skulker back to the matter of why the ghost child was with them in the first place.

Skulker nearly jumped out of his exoskeleton when the blonde boy, the idiot who'd been dragging the halfa, suddenly turned and slammed the halfa's back sharply into the dense metal of the lockers, holding him by his throat about three inches off of the ground. His legs dangled without restraint, and Skulker almost flinched for the blonde boy, for he had once preformed near the exact same maneuver of the halfa against a building around fifty feet up, and had gotten a rather powerful kick in the head that had detached his metal head from his shoulders and sent him flying.

He was bewildered when the halfa did nothing, and instead just dangled there. He saw, to his bemusement, a wisp of blue frost escape the halfa's mouth, but at that exact moment, the blonde boy lifted him higher and then slammed him back into the lockers, probably frazzling the halfa just enough for just a moment so the ghost sense didn't register, which was very lucky for Skulker indeed. What a spectacular coincidence!

Skulker saw the halfa grit his teeth in frustration as his black0haired head slammed against the metal of the locker behind him, denting it, but yet, he did nothing, even as the blonde boy did it once more, clearly denting the locker this time. The group of morons didn't seem to notice the locker denting nor the obvious frustration the halfa was experiencing, instead taking it for pain.

"Aww," the blonde supposed "leader" of the group mocked. "Does wittle FenTOILET need to call him Mommy?" The other morons in the group giggled like, well, morons.

Skulker saw the halfa begin to roll his eyes, but then stop suddenly, and turn his attention of the blonde boy. The halfa didn't reply with the expected witty banter either, and didn't even square his shoulders to express his dominance and eagerness to fight. He just looked blankly at Dash with unexpressive blue eyes, and Skulker's extra movement sensors picked up the hints that he was sighing, probably with exasperation.

"No reply?" the blonde sneered. "I'm giving you an opportunity to beg for mercy, Fentonio! Maybe if you do, I'll be lien…lieni-" he paused, a confused expression on his face. This time Skulker did see the halfa roll his eyes. "I'll go easy on you," the blonde finally growled, angry at him own incompetence. The other boys in the group chuckled and pulled out phones, probably to record.

The halfa blinked blankly at Dash, looking very indifferent. His face was a mask of no emotion, just uncaring in whole. Still, suddenly Skulker knew exactly what he was feeling. Having to put up with other people's crap when you could easily pound their face in just because of an image, or that you'd get in trouble, or that the consequences were worse than the benefits, in the end. Skulker dealt with that often. From Plasmius. From Technus. From Johnny or Kitty. From Ember. From Walker. Even from the goddamned Ghost Writer, who hardly knew his name and wouldn't if it wasn't "difficult" to find things that rhymed with Skulker.

"You head me, FentOREO?!" the blonde boy shouted at far too high a volume. "I said," he threw the halfa on the ground, and, for some reason, though the halfa could easily catch himself-as Skulker knew-he let himself fall to the floor. "BEG!" the blonde ordered, face red.

"Please don't hit me," the halfa said in a monotone, looking like he probably found watching paint dry more stimulating than this.

"Not good enough," the blonde boy growled out, and lifted the halfa by his shirt collar. "I guess I'll just have to beat it out of you."

Somehow, though he'd been on the receiving end of many of the halfa's painful defensive maneuvers, Skulker could not find it in himself to pity the blonde boy any longer. The blonde raised a fist, and Skulker could see the perfect movement for the halfa to enact just as the halfa did. He'd had it done to him before, and he knew it was not extremely pleasant.

As the blonde's fist would come towards the halfa's face, the halfa would reach up and grab the boy by the wrist, not the fist, and scoot his hand up about an inch and a half, then twist his own wrist so the boy's body would be forced to twist afterward completely, leaving the boy, since he could not rebel against gravity, to smack into the cold tile floor with a hard bruise on his forearm. The halfa might add in a ghostly power kick for a ghostly opponent, but seeing as this boy was human, the forearm maneuver would probably work just fine.

To Skulker's utter shock, the halfa did not actually _do_ anything. He stood perfectly still as the blonde boy held him by the collar and socked him straight on the cheek. The halfa's head twisted to the side, but Skulker could sense that he'd twisted to the side on purpose, to give the blonde "appropriate" satisfaction. He also fake-winced in pain, though it was obvious to Skulker that it hadn't hurt very much, if at all. He'd seen the halfa punched so hard he flew thirty feet back and slammed into buildings, partway-demolishing them with force. He didn't think an amateur high school bully could do much.

The blonde boy went for the gut next, socking the halfa several times in the stomach in an attempt to knock the breath out of him, but seeing as the halfa had no need to breathe for extended periods of time, this didn't work. Still, the ghost whelp put on a bit of a show, gasping for fake breath and twisting his features into a false mask of pain, but there was no feeling or emotion besides boredom and annoyance behind it, and Skulker could see this clearly.

It was odd, and Skulker did not understand why he let the blonde boy punch him repeatedly if he could be easily be beaten by a single flick of the wrist. It was obvious to Skulker that the blonde boy would back off as soon as his prey started fighting back, and that gave Skulker an excellent idea. Just this once, it would be help instead of hurt. Tomorrow he would be back for his prize pelt, or whenever the bruises healed. Shouldn't take too long, with the halfa's healing factor.

Skulker knew he would only have single shot at this, since if he got too close, the ghost sense would activate again, causing his cover to be blown. It had to be perfect, so he waited until the halfa had his back pressed again the lockers, a variety of blows coming form three of four idiots in red jackets, while the blonde screamed got him to grovel for mercy. He kept feigning pain, but Skulker could tell that it was so obviously fake, the group jocks had to be complete dunderheads to not notice.

When the perfect moment arrived, Skulker suddenly surged forward. An icy breath formed at the halfa's lips, and blue eyes winded, but before a reaction could happen, Skulker slammed intangibly into his target.

For a moment, he was completely disoriented, but he came to his senses quickly with the first burst of sensation. A fist landing a sloppily delivered blow on his now smaller chin, only clipping it and not hurting in the slightest, but providing enough boost for Skulker to blink away the disorientation. Another fist came his way, directed at his left cheek, and quick as a grasshopper, he reached up and grabbed it out of the air, pushing it's owner back and sending him stumbling. He put his thin hands on the chests of the other two beating him up and pushed them back gently, but nonetheless, they fell back, stumbling.

Suddenly, a twisting in his gut and prickling feeling all over his nerves caught Skulker by surprise, nearly making him disgorge the halfa's breakfast. The halfa, apparently, did not take kindly to Skulker helping him with his bully problem, but Skulker pushed the halfa down with all his strength. Just one more. The blonde.

Skulker turned the halfa's body so it faced the blonde head on, smirked a smirk he saw nearly every time he came to the human world, right before he saw the thermos, and squared his shoulders at the blonde. The halfa's willpower surged forward, pushing needles into Skulker's mentality, trying to get him out. But, in the same body, Skulker could tell, though he disposed being overshadowed, that the halfa almost wanted the blonde in front of him delivered a hardy punch by his own body, his own fist.

The blonde seemed momentarily taken aback, but then faced off, sneering at Skulker. He cracked his knuckles. "Been a while since I pounded someone in earnest," he said, but he was lying through his teeth, and the halfa knew it too, because a pang of irritation emitted from his part of the consciousness. Pain continued to stab at Skulkers, and the hunter noted that the halfa had gotten quite good at mental defense, but he hung on, just wanting to finish. If the halfa had been giving getting Skulker out of his head his all, Skulker would be out, but a minuscule part of the halfa was sitting back and eating popcorn, waiting for the show to begin, and Skulker used that as much as he could.

The blonde drove a fist toward Skulker, and though the body was knew to him, Skulker had his reflexes, and the fist seemed to be traveling at a snails pace. He could also feel the halfa's muscle memory burning, waiting, clenching. Ready to grab that fist and preform a maneuver worthy of only the worst ghosts on the blonde before him, because the halfa had done this so many times before. Skulker grabbed at just a straw of the ghost fighting muscle memory, but it was more than enough.

Suddenly, the blonde was laying on his back on the hallway, staring at the ceiling while his arm was completely dislocated from his shoulder, dangling limply. At the same time, such sharp and unexpected pain drove into Skulker's conscienceless so that he was thrown out of the whelp's body and sent flying down the hallway. The got up just in time to see the flaming green eyes of the halfa as he marched down the hall. Skulker swallowed at the anger contained within them.

The halfa grabbed him by the throat of his new exoskeleton and slammed him up against a wall much like the blonde had slammed the halfa up against the lockers, but instead of slamming three times until it dented, chips of plaster and drywall flew everywhere, littering the hallway.

"Don't. You. _EVER!_ Try. To. Over. Shadow. Me. Again!" the whelp threatened, eyes glimmering bright emerald. "Or I swear I will rip your armor into minuscule pieces and donate you to a high school teacher looking to dissect frogs. I will release every prize you've ever caught and caged and burn every animal or ghost pelt you've ever collected. I will disintegrate every single one of your hunting tools into piles of ash and set a bomb in your lair so you will be homeless. Do you understand me?"

Skulker, surprised by the ferocity of the halfa, nodded mutely. A snarl twisted itself onto the whelp's ace, making him looks dangerous as heck. "I said, Do You _Understand?!_" He practically shouted, but not quite. He didn't need volume to sound terrifying.

"Yes," Skulker confirmed, and spotted the jocks he'd pushed earlier watching with mouths agape. One of them had fallen down and was now sitting on him butt next to the blonde, who was moaning about the dislocation. Skulker turned his attention back to the matter at hand and nodded tersely at the whelp before melting into the wall, coming out on the other side and shaking himself to his senses before flying off in search of better prey.

He flew fifteen feet away, and then decided to double back, to see the effects of his efforts. e flew up to the window, not bothering with intangibility, on invisibility, and saw the three jock's he'd dispatched before the blonde one staring at the halfa with wide eyes and shaky legs.

"F-F-Fe-Fenton j-just stood up t-too a gh-ghost!" one of them screamed. The shout resonated through the school before the halfa could smack a hand over his face.

"We're not going to share this little event," he said. "Now here."

The halfa leaned down and grabbed the blonde boy, sitting with his legs crossed and bracing the boy's shoulder against his leg. He grabbed the dislocated arm and somehow popped it back into place in a single movement, even without a wall. The blonde boy wrenched up, screaming, and smacked a flailing hand across the halfa's cheek like a scared little girl. The halfa didn't even flinch, just got up from the floor and casually dusted himself off.

He turned to the three jocks, standing there in surprise, and sent a glare down at the blonde boy, still scrambling to get up off the floor. "This. Never. Happened." His eyes blazed, but somehow, they remained blue. His hands were clenched into fists. "I'm not going to stand here and deal with your questions, either, because I have a ghost to catch. You're not going to tell anybody about this."

"Was that a threat, Fentina?" The blonde boy mocked. Skulker wondered just how stupid this boy had to act before the halfa showed his potential.

"No," the halfa said. "It was a fact." He didn't even spare the blonde boy another glance before spinning and walking down the hall, turning around the corner. The slightest hint of blue light flashed on the white-painted walls, and Skulker knew what happened next. He flew up, trying to the get away before-

"What the heck was that, Skulker?" a voice wondered behind him, and he spun to see the halfa floating in ghost form right in front of him. "Why did you do…that?" He gestured wildly down at the school building where the jocks no doubt still were.

Skulker paused. "It sucks to be the little guy, doesn't it?" he finally said, and the halfa paused, giving him strange look. "Especially when you know you can beat them and your consciousness is screaming for you to pound their heads in a show them what you can really do. I'm starting to understand why you let the Box Ghost go easy every time, instead of just hurting him so much he'd never come back. You secretly like to tussle a little with him. To get out your anger."

The halfa tilted his head, and then nodded. "It's not even a secret that sometimes I enjoy picking on somebody after I've been picked on, but I normally refrain unless I can hit them without serious danger of hurting them and that they're bullying other people. And," he smirked slightly. "It takes one to know one."

"Touche," Skulker replied.

"Good day," the halfa shot back, and Skulker found himself once again facing the hollow end of the dreaded thermos.

**Not the best ending, but I was getting impatient. Whatever. Also, sorry for the "no accent" thing, on words like Touche and Cliche, because my computer can't figure out how to do accents. It keeps giving me a music note...?**

**Later.**

**UNtil NExt TIme.**


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